The Life and Letters of Lewis Carroll by Stuart Dodgson Collingwood
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Stuart Dodgson Collingwood >> The Life and Letters of Lewis Carroll
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[Illustration: Dr. Liddon. _From a photograph by Lewis
Carroll_.]
_July 12th_.--The Sultan and I arrived in London almost
at the same time, but in different quarters--_my_ point
of entry being Paddington, and _his_ Charing Cross. I
must admit that the crowd was greatest at the latter place.
Mr. Dodgson and Dr. Liddon met at Dover, and passed the night at one
of the hotels there:--
_July 13th_.--We breakfasted, as agreed, at eight, or
at least we then sat down and nibbled bread and butter till
such time as the chops should be done, which great event
took place about half past. We tried pathetic appeals to the
wandering waiters, who told us, "They are coming, sir," in a
soothing tone, and we tried stern remonstrance, and they
then said, "They are coming, sir," in a more injured tone;
and after all such appeals they retired into their dens, and
hid themselves behind side-boards and dish-covers, and still
the chops came not. We agreed that of all virtues a waiter
can display, that of a retiring disposition is quite the
least desirable....
The pen refuses to describe the sufferings of some of the
passengers during our smooth trip of ninety minutes: my own
sensations were those of extreme surprise, and a little
indignation, at there being no other sensations--it was not
for _that_ I paid my money....
We landed at Calais in the usual swarm of friendly natives,
offering services and advice of all kinds; to all such
remarks I returned one simple answer, _Non!_ It was
probably not strictly applicable in all cases, but it
answered the purpose of getting rid of them; one by one they
left me, echoing the _Non_! in various tones, but all
expressive of disgust.
At Cologne began that feast of beautiful things which his artistic
temperament fitted him so well to enjoy. Though the churches he
visited and the ceremonies he witnessed belonged to a religious system
widely different from his own, the largeness and generosity of his
mind always led him to insist upon that substratum of true
devotion--to use a favourite word of his--which underlies all forms of
Christianity.
We spent an hour in the cathedral, which I will not attempt
to describe further than by saying it was the most beautiful
of all churches I have ever seen or can imagine. If one
could imagine the spirit of devotion embodied in any
material form, it would be in such a building.
In spite of all the wealth of words that has been expended upon German
art, he found something new to say on this most fertile subject:--
The amount of art lavished on the whole region of Potsdam is
marvellous; some of the tops of the palaces were like
forests of statues, and they were all over the gardens, set
on pedestals. In fact, the two principles of Berlin
architecture appear to me to be these. On the house-tops,
wherever there is a convenient place, put up the figure of a
man; he is best placed standing on one leg. Wherever there
is room on the ground, put either a circular group of busts
on pedestals, in consultation, all looking inwards--or else
the colossal figure of a man killing, about to kill, or
having killed (the present tense is preferred) a beast; the
more pricks the beast has, the better--in fact a dragon is
the correct thing, but if that is beyond the artist, he may
content himself with a lion or a pig. The beast-killing
principle has been carried out everywhere with a relentless
monotony, which makes some parts of Berlin look like a
fossil slaughter-house.
He never missed an opportunity of studying the foreign drama, which
was most praiseworthy, as he knew very little German and not a word of
Russ:--
At the hotel [at Danzig] was a green parrot on a stand; we
addressed it as "Pretty Poll," and it put its head on one
side and thought about it, but wouldn't commit itself to any
statement. The waiter came up to inform us of the reason of
its silence: "Er spricht nicht Englisch; er spricht nicht
Deutsch." It appeared that the unfortunate bird could speak
nothing but Mexican! Not knowing a word of that language, we
could only pity it.
_July 23rd._--We strolled about and bought a few
photographs, and at 11.39 left for Koenigsberg. On our way to
the station we came across the grandest instance of the
"Majesty of Justice" that I have ever witnessed. A little
boy was being taken to the magistrate, or to prison
(probably for picking a pocket). The achievement of this
feat had been entrusted to two soldiers in full uniform, who
were solemnly marching, one in front of the poor little
urchin and one behind, with bayonets fixed, of course, to be
ready to charge in case he should attempt an escape.
_July 25th._--In the evening I visited the theatre at
Koenigsberg, which was fairly good in every way, and very
good in the singing and some of the acting. The play was
"Anno 66," but I could only catch a few words here and
there, so have very little idea of the plot. One of the
characters was a correspondent of an English newspaper. This
singular being came on in the midst of a soldiers' bivouac
before Sadowa, dressed very nearly in white--a very long
frock-coat, and a tall hat on the back of his head, both
nearly white. He said "Morning" as a general remark, when he
first came on, but afterwards talked what I suppose was
broken German. He appeared to be regarded as a butt by the
soldiers, and ended his career by falling into a drum.
From Koenigsberg the travellers went on to St. Petersburg, where they
stayed several days, exploring the wonderful city and its environs:--
There is a fine equestrian statue of Peter the Great near
the Admiralty. The lower part is not a pedestal, but left
shapeless and rough like a real rock. The horse is rearing,
and has a serpent coiled about its hind feet, on which, I
think, it is treading. If this had been put up in Berlin,
Peter would no doubt have been actively engaged in killing
the monster, but here he takes no notice of it; in fact, the
killing theory is not recognised. We found two colossal
figures of lions, which are so painfully mild that each of
them is rolling a great ball about like a kitten.
_Aug. 1st_.--About half-past ten Mr. Merrilies called
for us, and with really remarkable kindness gave up his day
to taking us down to Peterhof, a distance of about twenty
miles, and showing us over the place. We went by steamer
down the tideless, saltless Gulf of Finland; the first
peculiarity extends through the Baltic, and the second
through a great part of it. The piece we crossed, some
fifteen miles from shore to shore, is very shallow, in many
parts only six or eight feet deep, and every winter it is
entirely frozen over with ice two feet thick, and when this
is covered with snow it forms a secure plain, which is
regularly used for travelling on, though the immense
distance, without means of food or shelter, is dangerous for
poorly clad foot passengers. Mr. Merrilies told us of a
friend of his who, in crossing last winter, passed the
bodies of eight people who had been frozen. We had a good
view, on our way, of the coast of Finland, and of Kronstadt.
When we landed at Peterhof, we found Mr. Muir's carriage
waiting for us, and with its assistance, getting out every
now and then to walk through portions where it could not go,
we went over the grounds of two imperial palaces, including
many little summer-houses, each of which would make a very
good residence in itself, as, though small, they were fitted
up and adorned in every way that taste could suggest or
wealth achieve. For varied beauty and perfect combination of
nature and art, I think the gardens eclipse those of Sans
Souci. At every corner, or end of an avenue or path, where a
piece of statuary could be introduced with effect, there one
was sure to find one, in bronze or in white marble; many of
the latter had a sort of circular niche built behind, with a
blue background to throw the figure into relief. Here we
found a series of shelving ledges made of stone, with a
sheet of water gliding down over them; here a long path,
stretching down slopes and flights of steps, and arched over
all the way with trellises and creepers; here a huge
boulder, hewn, just as it lay, into the shape of a gigantic
head and face, with mild, sphinx-like eyes, as if some
buried Titan were struggling to free himself; here a
fountain, so artfully formed of pipes set in circles, each
set shooting the water higher than those outside, as to form
a solid pyramid of glittering spray; here a lawn, seen
through a break in the woods below us, with threads of
scarlet geraniums running over it, and looking in the
distance like a huge branch of coral; and here and there
long avenues of trees, lying in all directions, sometimes
three or four together side by side, and sometimes radiating
like a star, and stretching away into the distance till the
eye was almost weary of following them. All this will rather
serve to remind me, than to convey any idea, of what we saw.
But the beauties of Peterhof were quite eclipsed by the Oriental
splendours of Moscow, which naturally made a great impression upon a
mind accustomed to the cold sublimity of Gothic architecture at
Oxford.
We gave five or six hours to a stroll through this wonderful
city, a city of white houses and green roofs, of conical
towers that rise one out of another like a foreshortened
telescope; of bulging gilded domes, in which you see, as in
a looking-glass, distorted pictures of the city; of churches
which look, outside, like bunches of variegated cactus (some
branches crowned with green prickly buds, others with blue,
and others with red and white) and which, inside, are hung
all round with _eikons_ and lamps, and lined with
illuminated pictures up to the very roof; and, finally, of
pavement that goes up and down like a ploughed field, and
_drojky_-drivers who insist on being paid thirty per
cent. extra to-day, "because it is the Empress's birthday."...
_Aug. 5th._--After dinner we went by arrangement to Mr.
Penny, and accompanied him to see a Russian wedding. It was
a most interesting ceremony. There was a large choir, from
the cathedral, who sang a long and beautiful anthem before
the service began; and the deacon (from the Church of the
Assumption) delivered several recitative portions of the
service in the most magnificent bass voice I ever heard,
rising gradually (I should say by less than half a note at a
time if that is possible), and increasing in volume of sound
as he rose in the scale, until his final note rang through
the building like a chorus of many voices. I could not have
conceived that one voice could have produced such an effect.
One part of the ceremony, the crowning the married couple,
was very nearly grotesque. Two gorgeous golden crowns were
brought in, which the officiating priest first waved before
them, and then placed on their heads--or rather the unhappy
bridegroom had to wear _his_, but the bride, having
prudently arranged her hair in a rather complicated manner
with a lace veil, could not have hers put on, but had it
held above her by a friend. The bridegroom, in plain evening
dress, crowned like a king, holding a candle, and with a
face of resigned misery, would have been pitiable if he had
not been so ludicrous. When the people had gone, we were
invited by the priests to see the east end of the church,
behind the golden gates, and were finally dismissed with a
hearty shake of the hand and the "kiss of peace," of which
even I, though in lay costume, came in for a share.
One of the objects of the tour was to see the fair at Nijni Novgorod,
and here the travellers arrived on August 6th, after a miserable
railway journey. Owing to the breaking down of a bridge, the
unfortunate passengers had been compelled to walk a mile through
drenching rain.
We went to the Smernovaya (or some such name) Hotel, a
truly villainous place, though no doubt the best in the
town. The feeding was very good, and everything else very
bad. It was some consolation to find that as we sat at
dinner we furnished a subject of the liveliest interest to
six or seven waiters, all dressed in white tunics, belted at
the waist, and white trousers, who ranged themselves in a
row and gazed in a quite absorbed way at the collection of
strange animals that were feeding before them. Now and then
a twinge of conscience would seize them that they were,
after all, not fulfilling the great object of life as
waiters, and on these occasions they would all hurry to the
end of the room, and refer to a great drawer which seemed to
contain nothing but spoons and corks. When we asked for
anything, they first looked at each other in an alarmed way;
then, when they had ascertained which understood the order
best, they all followed his example, which always was to
refer to the big drawer. We spent most of the afternoon
wandering through the fair, and buying _eikons_, &c. It
was a wonderful place. Besides there being distinct quarters
for the Persians, the Chinese, and others, we were
constantly meeting strange beings with unwholesome
complexions and unheard-of costumes. The Persians, with
their gentle, intelligent faces, the long eyes set wide
apart, the black hair, and yellow-brown skin, crowned with a
black woollen fez something like a grenadier, were about the
most picturesque we met. But all the novelties of the day
were thrown into the shade by our adventure at sunset, when
we came upon the Tartar mosque (the only one in Nijni)
exactly as one of the officials came out on the roof to
utter the muezzin cry, or call to prayers. Even if it had
been in no way singular in itself, it would have been deeply
interesting from its novelty and uniqueness, but the cry
itself was quite unlike anything I have ever heard before.
The beginning of each sentence was uttered in a rapid
monotone, and towards the end it rose gradually till it
ended in a prolonged, shrill wail, which floated overhead
through the still air with an indescribably sad and
ghostlike effect; heard at night, it would have thrilled one
like the cry of the Banshee.
This reminds one of the wonderful description in Mr. Kipling's "City
of Dreadful Night." It is not generally known that Mr. Dodgson was a
fervent admirer of Mr. Kipling's works; indeed during the last few
years of his life I think he took more pleasure in his tales than in
those of any other modern author.
Dr. Liddon's fame as a preacher had reached the Russian clergy, with
the result that he and Mr. Dodgson found many doors open to them which
are usually closed to travellers in Russia. After their visit to Nijni
Novgorod they returned to Moscow, whence, escorted by Bishop Leonide,
Suffragan Bishop of Moscow, they made an expedition to the Troitska
Monastery.
_August 12th_.--A most interesting day. We breakfasted
at half-past five, and soon after seven left by railway, in
company with Bishop Leonide and Mr. Penny, for Troitska
Monastery. We found the Bishop, in spite of his limited
knowledge of English, a very conversational and entertaining
fellow-traveller. The service at the cathedral had already
begun when we reached it, and the Bishop took us in with
him, through a great crowd which thronged the building, into
a side room which opened into the chancel, where we remained
during the service, and enjoyed the unusual privilege of
seeing the clergy communicate--a ceremony for which the
doors of the chancel are always shut, and the curtains
drawn, so that the congregation never witness it. It was a
most elaborate ceremony, full of crossings, and waving of
incense before everything that was going to be used, but
also clearly full of much deep devotion.... In the afternoon
we went down to the Archbishop's palace, and were presented
to him by Bishop Leonide. The Archbishop could only talk
Russian, so that the conversation between him and Liddon (a
most interesting one, which lasted more than an hour) was
conducted in a very original fashion--the Archbishop making
a remark in Russian, which was put into English by the
Bishop; Liddon then answered the remark in French, and the
Bishop repeated his answer in Russian to the Archbishop. So
that a conversation, entirely carried on between two people,
required the use of three languages!
The Bishop had kindly got one of the theological students,
who could talk French, to conduct us about, which he did
most zealously, taking us, among other things, to see the
subterranean cells of the hermits, in which some of them
live for many years. We were shown the doors of two of the
inhabited ones; it was a strange and not quite comfortable
feeling, in a dark narrow passage where each had to carry a
candle, to be shown the low narrow door of a little cellar,
and to know that a human being was living within, with only
a small lamp to give him light, in solitude and silence day
and night.
His experiences with an exorbitant _drojky_-driver at St.
Petersburg are worthy of record. They remind one of a story which he
himself used to tell as having happened to a friend of his at Oxford.
The latter had driven up in a cab to Tom Gate, and offered the cabman
the proper fare, which was, however, refused with scorn. After a long
altercation he left the irate cabman to be brought to reason by the
porter, a one-armed giant of prodigious strength. When he was leaving
college, he stopped at the gate to ask the porter how he had managed
to dispose of the cabman. "Well, sir," replied that doughty champion,
"I could not persuade him to go until I floored him."
After a hearty breakfast I left Liddon to rest and write
letters, and went off shopping, &c., beginning with a call
on Mr. Muir at No. 61, Galerne Ulitsa. I took a
_drojky_ to the house, having first bargained with the
driver for thirty _kopecks_; he wanted forty to begin
with. When we got there we had a little scene, rather a
novelty in my experience of _drojky_-driving. The
driver began by saying "_Sorok_" (forty) as I got out;
this was a warning of the coming storm, but I took no notice
of it, but quietly handed over the thirty. He received them
with scorn and indignation, and holding them out in his open
hand, delivered an eloquent discourse in Russian, of which
_sorok_ was the leading idea. A woman, who stood by
with a look of amusement and curiosity, perhaps understood
him. _I_ didn't, but simply held out my hand for the
thirty, returned them to the purse and counted out
twenty-five instead. In doing this I felt something like a
man pulling the string of a shower-bath--and the effect was
like it--his fury boiled over directly, and quite eclipsed
all the former row. I told him in very bad Russian that I
had offered thirty once, but wouldn't again; but this, oddly
enough, did not pacify him. Mr. Muir's servant told him the
same thing at length, and finally Mr. Muir himself came out
and gave him the substance of it sharply and shortly--but he
failed to see it in a proper light. Some people are very
hard to please.
When staying at a friend's house at Kronstadt he wrote:--
Liddon had surrendered his overcoat early in the day, and
when going we found it must be recovered from the
waiting-maid, who only talked Russian, and as I had left the
dictionary behind, and the little vocabulary did not contain
_coat_, we were in some difficulty. Liddon began by
exhibiting his coat, with much gesticulation, including the
taking it half-off. To our delight, she appeared to
understand at once--left the room, and returned in a minute
with--a large clothes-brush. On this Liddon tried a further
and more energetic demonstration; he took off his coat, and
laid it at her feet, pointed downwards (to intimate that in
the lower regions was the object of his desire), smiled with
an expression of the joy and gratitude with which he would
receive it, and put the coat on again. Once more a gleam of
intelligence lighted up the plain but expressive features of
the young person; she was absent much longer this time, and
when she returned, she brought, to our dismay, a large
cushion and a pillow, and began to prepare the sofa for the
nap that she now saw clearly was the thing the dumb
gentleman wanted. A happy thought occurred to me, and I
hastily drew a sketch representing Liddon, with one coat on,
receiving a second and larger one from the hands of a
benignant Russian peasant. The language of hieroglyphics
succeeded where all other means had failed, and we returned
to St. Petersburg with the humiliating knowledge that our
standard of civilisation was now reduced to the level of
ancient Nineveh.
[Illustration: Instance of hieroglyphic writing of the date
MDCCCLXVII--Interpretation. "There is a coat here, left in the care of
a Russian peasant, which I should be glad to receive from him."]
At Warsaw they made a short stay, putting up at the Hotel
d'Angleterre:--
Our passage is inhabited by a tall and very friendly
grey-hound, who walks in whenever the door is opened for a
second or two, and who for some time threatened to make the
labour of the servant, who was bringing water for a bath, of
no effect, by drinking up the water as fast as it was
brought.
From Warsaw they went on to Leipzig, and thence to Giessen, where they
arrived on September 4th.
We moved on to Giessen, and put up at the "Rappe Hotel" for
the night, and ordered an early breakfast of an obliging
waiter who talked English. "Coffee!" he exclaimed
delightedly, catching at the word as if it were a really
original idea, "Ah, coffee--very nice--and eggs? Ham with
your eggs? Very nice--" "If we can have it broiled," I said.
"Boiled?" the waiter repeated, with an incredulous smile.
"No, not _boiled_," I explained--"_broiled_." The
waiter put aside this distinction as trivial, "Yes, yes,
ham," he repeated, reverting to his favourite idea. "Yes,
ham," I said, "but how cooked?" "Yes, yes, how cooked," the
waiter replied, with the careless air of one who assents to
a proposition more from good nature than from a real
conviction of its truth.
_Sept. 5th_.--At midday we reached Ems, after a journey
eventless, but through a very interesting country--valleys
winding away in all directions among hills clothed with
trees to the very top, and white villages nestling away
wherever there was a comfortable corner to hide in. The
trees were so small, so uniform in colour, and so
continuous, that they gave to the more distant hills
something of the effect of banks covered with moss. The
really unique feature of the scenery was the way in which
the old castles seemed to grow, rather than to have been
built, on the tops of the rocky promontories that showed
their heads here and there among the trees. I have never
seen architecture that seemed so entirely in harmony with
the spirit of the place. By some subtle instinct the old
architects seem to have chosen both form and colour, the
grouping of the towers with their pointed spires, and the
two neutral tints, light grey and brown, on the walls and
roof, so as to produce buildings which look as naturally
fitted to the spot as the heath or the harebells. And, like
the flowers and the rocks, they seemed instinct with no
other meaning than rest and silence.
And with these beautiful words my extracts from the Diary may well
conclude. Lewis Carroll's mind was completely at one with Nature, and
in her pleasant places of calm and infinite repose he sought his
rest--and has found it.
[Illustration: Sir John Tenniel. _From a photograph by
Bassano_.]
* * * * *
CHAPTER IV
(1868-1876)
Death of Archdeacon Dodgson--Lewis Carroll's rooms at Christ
Church--"Phantasmagoria"--Translations of "Alice"--"Through
the Looking-Glass"--"Jabberwocky" in Latin--C.S.
Calverley--"Notes by an Oxford
Chiel"--Hatfield--Vivisection--"The Hunting of the Snark."
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